


limasawa street

by voltair



Series: tiger boys [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, characters are all 20-24, hbd suna, mentions of smoking/vaping
Language: Filipino
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:15:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28975719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voltair/pseuds/voltair
Summary: Suna Rintarou. Thomasian. College of Commerce palang, delikado na. He’s even an Aquarius on top of it all. Everything about him screams emotionally detached. Osamu really should know better.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Series: tiger boys [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2125359
Comments: 1
Kudos: 25





	limasawa street

**Author's Note:**

> unedited !!! sorry in advance for the errors ahead

Osamu was with Aran the first time he saw Suna. They were passing by the fountain on their way to The One. Osamu spared a glance at the boy with the emotionless face—airpods in, world out. 

He’s handsome, Osamu thinks. Pretty, even. 

But he kept walking. That was how their first moment ended—brief, nothing special. Eventually, he’ll find that the grandest things often start that way.

— 

He wishes he sat at a different table, Osamu thinks despairingly as he picks on his food, appetite drained because of the nauseatingly sweet couple two seconds away from smooching in front of him. 

“Tangina pre,” Osamu groans as Oikawa giggles when Kuroo pinches his waist. “Kailangan niyo pa ba ko dito?” 

“Syempre naman, Samu-chan.” Oikawa’s Gong Cha order sits in front of him, untouched because he’s too busy being a lovestruck fool with his boyfriend. “Let’s tabi nalang, inaaway ako ni Tetsu—” 

“Wag mo kong iwan,” Kuroo says dramatically, clinging onto Oikawa like his life depends on it. Osamu wants to stand up and leave, but not before bashing their unfairly gorgeous faces with a metal table. 

Osamu rolls his eyes, leaning back in his seat and unlocking his phone, opting to drown them out by focusing on whatever’s happening in Subtle Clown Traits. 

He’s distracted from his aimless scrolling when someone approaches them. 

“Hi, may nakaupo ba dito?” 

Osamu looks up at the student—Commerce, he notes from the uniform. He thinks he’s seen him around before. 

“Wala naman,” Oikawa chirps with a polite smile, ever the socialite charmer. “You can sit beside Samu-chan if you want, patapos na rin naman kami!” 

The Commerce guy nods his thanks and pulls out the empty chair beside Osamu. He’s eating grilled bacon from Zee’s. With parmigiano sauce. Osamu’s favorite. 

“Wait,” Kuroo suddenly says, looking at Suna more closely. “Diba ikaw yung tropa ni boss Kita? Suna ba?” 

‘Suna’ nods. “Yeah, blockmate ko.” 

“Nakainuman na ba kita dati?” 

“Oo yata. Cubao?” 

“Cubaoooo! Yo pare, sorry di kita namukhaan.” Kuroo grins and holds out a fist bump that Suna coolly counters while sipping his yogurt drink from YoWell. Another one of Osamu’s favorites. 

“Ays lang.” 

“You’re friends with Kita-chan? Halaaaa, I really like him pa naman. Super cool niya, as in.”

Suna chuckles at Oikawa. “Lasallian ka noh?” 

“Porket conyo Lasallian agad,” Oikawa huffs, making Kuroo sigh fondly. “Malay mo I’m Atenean!”

“Nah, di kuha yung accent.” 

They all snort at that. 

“‘Nga noh? Iba conyo accent ng Lasallian tsaka Atenean.” 

“Yeah, there’s something different talaga—” 

Osamu lets the conversation flow, saying something every once in a while but mostly staying quiet. He checks his schedule on his phone and feels his motivation start to wilt. 

After some time, Suna finishes his food and stands up. 

“San punta bro?” Kuroo asks, arms casually slung around his boyfriend’s shoulders. 

“Dapits,” Suna answers briefly, bringing two of his fingers near his lips to mimic a smoking gesture. 

Osamu stares a little. 

“Sama na ‘ko,” Osamu says before he could stop himself, ignoring Kuroo and Oikawa’s protests. “Umay na ‘ko sa magjowang ‘to.” 

“Grabe ka na Samu-chan!” 

“Inggit ka lang ulol!” 

Osamu flips them off and throws his trash to the bin before looking at Suna. 

“Tara na?” 

“G.” 

— 

Suna is everywhere after that. Waiting in line at Pasta Boy, visiting the UST Hospital for the Dairy Queen, buying dinner from Dimsum Treats, playing billiards in Navarra… 

Everywhere Osamu looks, he’s there. 

“Kita nanaman kita.” 

Suna looks up from where he’s sitting in one of the benches beside the field. He cracks a small smile at Osamu, unplugging his earphones. Osamu thinks he hears Paramore. 

“Hinahanap mo ba ko?” 

Osamu snorts and sits down beside him, taking off his ID to feel a bit fresher. 

“Asa ka.” 

“San kambal mo?” 

“Ginugulo si Sakusa.”

Suna snickers at that, shaking his head as he runs a hand through his hair. 

“Si Sakusa pa? ‘Di bibigay yun.” 

“Sinabi ko naman na kay Atsumu ‘yun. Tigas lang ng ulo.” 

“Parang ikaw.” 

“Ha?” 

“Tigas ulo.” 

Osamu shoots him a droll stare. “Talaga ba?” 

There’s a light smirk playing on Suna’s lips. Osamu blinks, and suddenly Suna is a breath’s width away from his face. 

“Oo. Talaga.” 

_Nilalandi niya ba ko?_ Osamu thinks dazedly. Suna backs away before he could retort, already standing up. 

“Una na ko,” Suna yawns, loosening his collar. “Magbibilyaran pa kami nila Iwa.” 

Osamu stares at his retreating back and wonders if this is the start of what everyone’s been going crazy for, of what everyone’s been crying over. 

— 

“Sino yun?” Atsumu asks, lazily draped over his bed as he watches Osamu mop the floor of their shared condominium. “Yung kausap mo sa field. Kita ko kayo.”

  
“Suna.”

“Ah. Yung nakwento mo dati?”

  
  
“Oo. Putangina tumayo ka nga dyan, tulungan mo ko maglinis.”

  
  
Atsumu sits up, reaching for a plastic bag below his mattress and taking out a Piattos. “Crush mo?” the blond cheekily inquires. “Pogi niya eh.”

Osamu manages to keep his face straight. 

“Tropa ko lang. Maglinis ka.”

“Parang iba tingin mo eh.”

  
  
“Lalampasuhin ko mukha mo pag di ka tumulong.”

Atsumu grumbles something nasty under his breath, but he stands up to help anyway. They leave the topic at that. 

But Osamu kept thinking about it until the thought of Suna consumed his every waking hour. He thinks of the way Suna eats in small bites, thinks of the playlists on his Spotify. He thinks of the pictures of sunsets in Suna's phone, the cigarette butts on the bin in his dorm. 

He thinks of Suna in general, his quiet presence and his favorite tapa meal in Chiquitos. 

"Wala kang payong?" 

Osamu is agitatedly shrugging on his jacket when he hears Suna's voice. His irritation at the sudden rainfall appeases lightly at the other's presence. 

"Nakalimutan ko sa dorm," Osamu groans, clicking his tongue in annoyance when rainwater soaks his socks. "Putangina naman. Magpapaprint pa ko."

"Nakalimutan ko rin payong ko eh. Hassle."  
  
  


"Sinabi mo pa." Osamu sighs, gritting his teeth in frustration. "Sobrang bad timing ng putanginang ulan."

"Chill. Kailan ba deadline nung papaprint mo?"

"Bukas. First subject."

"Ah." Suna pats his shoulder sympathetically. "May printer ako sa dorm, if you want. Para di ka na pipila sa comp shop."

"Okay lang ba?" He's not really in the position to be shy now. He badly needs to print the paper or his grades are fucked. 

Suna nods. "Ba't naman hindi? Tas ayun lang dorm ko. Pwede natin takbuhin."

That startles a laugh out of Osamu. 

"Sa ulan na 'to?"

Suna shrugs, face neutral. 

"Matutuyo naman."

Osamu grins crookedly, shaking his head. "Kakaiba ka talaga, Rintarou."

He misses the slight widening of Suna's eyes when he turns his gaze back to the rain. A group of senior high students pass behind them. The kutsinta vendor near the overpass left early due to the rain. A couple of nursing students braved the rain, running along the Lovers' Lane. 

"Ano? Takbuhin na ba natin?"

"May konting baha."

"Drowning tiger nga eh—"  
  
  


"Mahuli pangit—"  
  
  


"Ha? Puta—tangina mo! Hintayin mo ko!"

—

"Saya mo ah," Atsumu comments when Osamu comes home that night. Osamu ignores his twin, taking off his wet shoes and leaving them to dry outside. "Kasama mo si Suna? Aquarius yon tol ah. Ingat ka."

"Pinalaki ka bang pakelamero ni mama?" he snarks irritably, taking off his uniform. 

Atsumu throws a chip at him. He flings one of his wet socks at him in retaliation. 

"Tangina mo kadiri ka naman!"

"Nauna ka putangina mo—"

"Nagtatanong lang eh!" Atsumu yelps, leaping out of the way when Osamu flings his bag towards his direction. "Ba't defensive ka?!"

"Problemahin mo muna si Sakusa mo," Osamu mutters. He receives a used tissue to the face for the jibe.

"Fuck! Tangina mo ang baboy mo—!"

"Bakla—"  
  
  


"Bakla ka rin naman?!"

—

It happens on a Friday. Chillnuman at Bokuto’s condo, a mutual friend of theirs. Even the busy Aran, who passed the designated driver duty to a resigned Kita, was coming. Kuroo will bring his boyfriend along, not that anyone’s surprised by that. 

The biggest surprise was Bokuto managing to get Sakusa to come. Atsumu was on a high the whole day he learned about it. 

“Sali ka sa ikot o magsasariling baso ka?” Suna asks him, juul already held in his hand. Oikawa whines about Kuroo’s ugly outfit. Kuroo pretends to growl— _"Anong sabi mo ha? Bawiin mo yon, Oikawa-san, bawiin mo!”_ —and attack him with tickles. Everybody ignores them. 

“Sali na ko,” Osamu answers, taking out his phone to snap a picture of the table filled with alcohol bottles and platters of sisig and adobo flakes from Sisig Express. “Gin dalandan ba?”

“Yeah.” Suna pockets his juul first and takes out a lighter when Atsumu hands him the mix, lighting the fire near the mouth of the bottle and pouring it on the metal pitcher, repeating the process until the bottle’s empty. 

“Ilang bote andyan?”

  
  
“Kinse gago!”

  
  
“Pucha may pasok pa tayo bukas—”

Aran groans, burying his face on Kita’s shoulder. “Papatayin ako ng mga ‘to.”

“Papatayin muna nila atay nila,” Kita responds with a hint of amusement in his voice as he hands the glass to a stoic Sakusa. “Una na si Kiyo.”

“Let’s go!” 

“Patugtog ka—”

  
  
“Teka hanapin ko speaker—”

“I’ll connect sa Bluetooth!” Oikawa shouts, jumping from the couch and following Bokuto so no one could steal the speaker from him. Kuroo slumps at the loss of his boyfriend’s warmth. Osamu wrinkles his nose at him. 

“Whipped gago.”

“Kita mo ba si Tooru? Sino di maw’whipped dyan?”

Atsumu pretends to puke on the side. Kuroo hits him on the back of his head. 

“Start na!”

—

Gin is a deceitful drink. It leaves you relaxed with its fruity, juice-like taste, makes you think “Will I even get drunk from this?”

And then you stand up after a few shots and the world is a hazy, spinning mess. RIP to you if you were on your cell phone the whole time you were drinking. 

Osamu’s starting to feel it by the time they’re on their tenth bottle. Sakusa, a surprising lightweight, is already lying face down on the floor, dead to the world. Atsumu is playing with his curls, looking like he’s about to tip over himself.

Oikawa, the monster with ungodly alcohol tolerance, is laughing as he goes around taking pictures of every dumb expression the stupid drunks around him are showing. More additions to his blackmail folder. Kuroo’s boyfriend is an evil, conniving bitch. Osamu likes him. 

Suna’s head is resting against his shoulder. His breath smells like mint smoke. Osamu doesn’t know if the thumping in his heart is because of the booming music that’ll probably earn some complaints from Bokuto’s neighbors, or if it’s from the blooming feelings he’s been trying to ignore ever since Suna texted him the world-changing _sayo lang naman ako mabilis magreply._

“Ssmu. Ssam. Samu.”

Osamu doesn’t move, not wanting to disturb Suna with his shifting. 

“Yeah?”

Suna mutters something under his breath. 

“Ha? Hindi kita marinig. Maingay yung kanta.”

Suna raises his head—all drunk eyes and heavy gaze. 

“I said,” he slurs, “that I really wanna fucking kiss you.”

Someone makes a retching sound before knocking a few bottles over in their haste to run to the bathroom. Kuroo is pulling his boyfriend into his lap, kissing him despite Oikawa’s complaints that he smelled like alcohol. Atsumu is snoring loudly from where his head is resting against Sakusa’s. Kita is trying to drag a shitfaced Aran out of the door. 

Osamu sits there, frozen, wondering if this is the gin speaking. 

Suna places his fingers on Osamu’s chin, turning his face so their gazes meet. 

“Pahalik lang, baby.” 

_Fuck,_ fuck, _FUCK_ —

“Isa lang.”

A voice that sounds suspiciously like Aran tells him to refuse. 

Throwing an arm around the back of the couch, he leans in with closed eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> next chap na yung momol


End file.
